… by J. R. Practix

Tag Archives: dangling

I bring this up to you without apology, biological explanation or some silly sidebar like, “Had no complaints…”

What is interesting about my statement, and makes this commentary worthy of publication, is that the little fella has done some amazing things.

He ended up fathering four children, and from them–not many complaints.

He has survived being in a bedroom with a woman without ridicule.

He has also seen that particular human female leave with a pleasured smile. (Basically, it had little to do with him, and was courtesy of other digits and doo-dads, but he will still take the credit.)

I suppose at one time in my life I would have been embarrassed by the size of my “unit” (that’s what people who feel they are well-endowed call it).

Or should I refer to it as my “package?” But if it is a package, I could send mine first-class reasonably. But call me crazy, I am too overjoyed with my life to complain about my wiener.

I would not want to be around people from the “pecker patrol,” who would stare at my small friend and find him to be disgracefully inadequate.

He has been dutiful. Every time my kidneys want to urinate, he shows up–often bright and early.

He has the good sense to stay out of neighborhoods where he does not belong.

And he’s remained clean and free of disease.

He’s a rather admirable chap.

And even though some of my family would be embarrassed at me talking about him in such a fashion, I think it’s time for us to get over the idea that men and women are going to hump their way to satisfaction because of the enormous size of the male dangling participle.

Making love is like everything else in life. It demands much more conversation than it does struggle.

Barn: (n) a large farm building used for storing grain, hay, straw or for housing livestock.

I grew up in a small town of 1,500 people.

One of the nice things about living in a village is that if you own one thing that others don’t, you are cool–and if by some miracle you have two, then you are rich.

I was on the junior high school basketball team.

A friend of mine lived right outside town and had a barn adjacent to his house. His parents had built, in the hayloft, a basketball court, complete with two hoops and a lovely wood floor.

It was magnificent.

I’m sure if I saw it today, it would appear rustic and dank. But to us, born in a little burg, it was Madison Square Haygarden.

My friend had never invited me up to play basketball. Other members of the team had been numerous times, but I was never included.

It hurt my feelings.

So one day when I was at his house, I just popped off with the question. “Hey, why don’t we go out to the barn and play some basketball?”

My friend was nervous but agreed. So we climbed up the steps, onto the court, and were bouncing and shooting away, when suddenly the floor just beneath my feet broke through and I fell straight down through the hole, catching myself by my armpits.

There I was, legs dangling to the floor beneath, wedged into a small opening, unable to get myself out.

Finally my friend was able to gather three or four other guys, along with his dad, to pull me out of the crevice and set me back onto firm lumber.

My friend then explained that this was why he had never invited me to the basketball court–he knew I was too heavy and might break through, but kept praying the whole time that everything would be okay.

It wasn’t.

I learned two valuable lessons that day:

If you’re going to be fat, sometimes you’ll be left out of the skinny games.

Prayer doesn’t always keep you from falling through the cracks…and dangling by your pits.

Arm: (n) each of the two upper limbs of the human body from the shoulder to the hand.

I do believe that many times we are actually upset about how well our body parts work together. Let me explain.

If the foot hurts, the rest of the body expresses its sympathy by having the brain note the pain and informing all the other members that they may be pulling extra duty during the day.

This became obvious to me when I woke up one morning and had slept on my arm in such a way that it felt sprained. The shocker came when I realized that this particular dangling participant in my human form performs many functions that I never even think about. So it was virtually impossible to wash myself in the shower, brush my teeth, comb my hair or reach for my box of cereal at the breakfast table.

Each time I did, I was reminded by a conscientious brain that the part of my anatomy I wished to be using was presently on sick leave.

This was communicated through pain.

Within an hour, though, I had become somewhat adept at utilizing my other arm for some functions. I also used my legs more to perform duties instead of reaching to achieve my quest.

I was mindful of my hurt arm and gave it the respect it was due, while simultaneously trying to gently “exercise” it of its demon.

It lasted all day long–and even though I was very glad when I woke up the next morning to discover I had usage back in my limb, I was impressed by the efficiency of my body and simultaneously humbled that some way or another… I can’t always find that same cooperation with the people around me.

Apostrophe (n.): a punctuation mark (‘) used to indicate either possession or the omission of letters or numbers.

It is a very good question. Are shortcuts in life an expression of laziness, or a desire to simplify before we end up being conquered?

Because honestly, I have taken some shortcuts which certainly ended up at dead ends, and have often found myself taking the long way home, only to be mocked by those who use a better GPS.

You see, the apostrophe already had a job. It was being used to prove that we own something. It was a clerical title-deed, to be presented to the reader, to establish the authenticity of our rights.

But them someone said, “There ought to be another job for this little marking. After all, the formal nature of using words like ‘is’ and ‘are’ over and over again is extremely tedious. So maybe if we leave out one of the letters, and stick in the apostrophe, which is already hanging around, we could come across as more relaxed, if not hip.”

I don’t know if someone experimented with this once in writing a document, or even when it started. For instance, I don’t see any apostrophes in the Declaration of Independence. It remains rather “verbal.”

Yet as a writer, I am often encouraged to shorten words with apostrophes so as not to appear to be a stick in the mud. Why is that?

(Or perhaps better phrased, why’s that?)

I think we do a disservice to ourselves when we merely accept the radical concepts of the previous generation as common doings in our own time simply because they survived the rigors of scrutiny.

So for me, there are occasions when I think clarity demands the addition of the full use of the little verbs … instead of sticking in a comma dangling in midair.